She went on, comforting me, as she thought. 'She laid before me the
merit of obedience; and told me, that if it were my desire that my
Norton should be present at the ceremony, it would be complied with:
that the pleasure I should receive from reconciling al my friends to me,
and in their congratulations upon it, must needs overbalance, with such
a one as me, the difference of persons, however preferable I might think
the one man to the other: that love was a fleeting thing, little better
than a name, where mortality and virtue did not distinguish the object
of it: that a choice made by its dictates was seldom happy; at least not
durably so: nor was it to be wondered at, when it naturally exalted the
object above its merits, and made the lover blind to faults, that were
visible to every body else: so that when a nearer intimacy stript it of
its imaginary perfections, it left frequently both parties surprised,
that they could be so grossly cheated; and that then the indifference
became stronger than the love ever was. That a woman gave a man great
advantages, and inspired him with great vanity, when she avowed her
love for him, and preference of him; and was generally requited with
insolence and contempt: whereas the confessedly-obliged man, it was
probable, would be all reverence and gratitude'--and I cannot tell what.
'You, my dear, said she, believe you shall be unhappy, if you have
Mr. Solmes: your parents think the contrary; and that you will be
undoubtedly so, were you to have Mr. Lovelace, whose morals are
unquestionably bad: suppose it were your sad lot to consider, what
great consolation you will have on one hand, if you pursue your parents'
advice, that you did so; what mortification on the other, that by
following your own, you have nobody to blame but yourself.'
This, you remember, my dear, was an argument enforced upon me by Mrs.
Norton.
These and other observations which she made were worthy of my aunt
Hervey's good sense and experience, and applied to almost any young
creature who stood in opposition to her parents' will, but one who had
offered to make the sacrifices I have offered to make, ought to have had
their due weight. But although it was easy to answer some of them in my
own particular case; yet having over and over, to my mother, before my
confinement, and to my brother and sister, and even to my aunt Hervey,
since, said what I must now have repeated, I was so much mortified and
afflicted at the cruel tidings she brought me, that however attentive I
was to what she said, I had neither power nor will to answer one word;
and, had she not stopped of herself, she might have gone on an hour
longer, without interruption from me.
Observing this, and that I only sat weeping, my handkerchief covering
my face, and my bosom heaving ready to burst; What! no answer, my
dear?--Why so much silent grief? You know I have always loved you. You
know, that I have no interest in the affair. You would not permit Mr.
Solmes to acquaint you with some things which would have set your heart
against Mr. Lovelace. Shall I tell you some of the matters charged
against him?--shall I, my dear?
Still I answered only by my tears and sighs.
Well, child, you shall be told these things afterwards, when you will be
in a better state of mind to hear them; and then you will rejoice in the
escape you will have had. It will be some excuse, then, for you to plead
for your behaviour to Mr. Solmes, that you could not have believed Mr.
Lovelace had been so very vile a man.
My heart fluttered with impatience and anger at being so plainly talked
to as the wife of this man; but yet I then chose to be silent. If I had
spoken, it would have been with vehemence.
Strange, my dear, such silence!--Your concern is infinitely more on this
side the day, than it will be on the other.--But let me ask you, and do
not be displeased, Will you choose to see what generous stipulations
for you there are in the settlements?--You have knowledge beyond your
years--give the writings a perusal: do, my dear: they are engrossed, and
ready for signing, and have been for some time. Excuse me, my love--I
mean not to disorder you:--your father would oblige me to bring them up,
and to leave them with you. He commands you to read them. But to read
them, Niece--since they are engrossed, and were before you made them
absolutely hopeless.
And then, to my great terror, she drew some parchments form her
handkerchief, which she had kept, (unobserved by me,) under her apron;
and rising, put them in the opposite window. Had she produced a serpent,
I could not have been more frightened.
Oh! my dearest Aunt, turning away my face, and holding out my hands,
hide from my eyes those horrid parchments!--Let me conjure you to tell
me--by all the tenderness of near relationship, and upon your honour,
and by your love for me, say, Are they absolutely resolved, that, come
what will, I must be that man's?
My dear, you must have Mr. Solmes: indeed you must.
Indeed I never will!--This, as I have said over and over, is not
originally my father's will.--Indeed I never will--and that is all I
will say!
It is your father's will now, replied my aunt: and, considering how
all the family is threatened by Mr. Lovelace, and the resolution he has
certainly taken to force you out of their hands, I cannot but say they
are in the right, not to be bullied out of their child.
Well, Madam, then nothing remains for me to say. I am made desperate. I
care not what becomes of me.
Your piety, and your prudence, my dear, and Mr. Lovelace's immoral
character, together with his daring insults, and threatenings, which
ought to incense you, as much as any body, are every one's dependence.
We are sure the time will come, when you'll think very differently of
the steps your friends take to disappoint a man who has made himself so
justly obnoxious to them all.
She withdrew; leaving me full of grief and indignation:--and as much
out of humour with Mr. Lovelace as with any body; who, by his conceited
contrivances, has made things worse for me than before; depriving me
of the hopes I had of gaining time to receive your advice, and private
assistance to get to town; and leaving me not other advice, in all
appearance, than either to throw myself upon his family, or to be made
miserable for ever with Mr. Solmes. But I was still resolved to avoid
both these evils, if possible.
I sounded Betty, in the first place, (whom my aunt sent up, not thinking
it proper, as Betty told me, that I should be left by myself, and who, I
found, knew their designs,) whether it were not probable that they
would forbear, at my earnest entreaty, to push matters to the threatened
extremity.
But she confirmed all my aunt said; rejoicing (as she said they all did)
that Mr. Lovelace had given them so good a pretence to save me from him
now, and for ever.
She ran on about equipages bespoken; talked of my brother's and sister's
exultations that now the whole family would soon be reconciled to each
other: of the servants' joy upon it: of the expected license: of a visit
to be paid me by Dr. Lewen, or another clergyman, whom they named not
to her; which was to crown the work: and of other preparations, so
particular, as made me dread that they designed to surprise me into a
still nearer day than Wednesday.
These things made me excessively uneasy. I knew not what to resolve
upon.
At one time, What have I to do, thought I, but to throw myself at once
into the protection of Lady Betty Lawrance?--But then, in resentment of
his fine contrivances, which had so abominably disconcerted me, I soon
resolved to the contrary: and at last concluded to ask the favour of
another half-hour's conversation with my aunt.